Passing for Multiple Nationalities

 

This weekend we headed to downtown Dakar to see some major landmarks and learn how to navigate our way around the city. We saw the “White House” where President Mack Sall lives and some other government buildings like city hall. We also saw where the national assembly has its sessions. We finished off our tour at Mims where those craving a hamburger could grab one. As we were walking around in our big group, people got curious about who we were and started asking about our nationality. I am happy to report that I am no longer Congolese and have instead been adopted by the Senegalese. I have been called sister by people on the streets who were wondering what I was doing with the group of Americans. Unfortunately, they have discovered the truth about me when they try to speak Wolof and I don’t know much beyond a couple phrases.  After people learn that I am not Senegalese, they immediately guess that I am French. This makes me laugh since the Parisians last semester made it clear that I was an American since I spoke like one. Maybe it hasn’t hit people yet that I am an American who was born in Africa and is on a study abroad program with the other American students.

One lesson I have learned from my time abroad is that anyone can claim the American identity and not be questioned. No one looks at me funny when I say that I am an American. They always ask where my family comes from to try and make sense of everything, but they don’t raise their eyebrows at me in question.

I have also learned that my skin color allows me to claim many identities. I can easily be French or Senegalese or American or Congolese-American depending on what I am doing. Sometimes, as long as I don’t speak and reveal my American accent or little knowledge of Wolof, I can fool people into thinking that I am actually one of them. This is probably going to have some consequences in the future when people start asking why I don’t speak more Wolof or what I am doing in Senegal. For the time being, I am going to enjoy surprising people who are wondering who the random girl is with the group of Americans.

I think that my experience brings up larger questions of identity, migration and perception. I am curious to see how the Senegalese begin to make sense of someone who is an African-American. There’s also this part where Africans are everywhere around the world. You can find them in France, the US, Brazil and even China. Lastly, I’ve learned that people use appearance to make assumptions about someone. In Europe, the fact that I was Black made people question why I was traveling to Berlin and Prague on my own. Here, being Black makes it difficult for people to classify me as an American.

Photos: On the left is an old train station and on the right is the cathedral